


Perspective

by pandorasv13



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Break Up, Diary/Journal, F/M, M/M, References to Cheating, Romance, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandorasv13/pseuds/pandorasv13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You just looked at me. You looked at me like I didn’t matter. Then…you smiled. Your perfect little lips spread in a smile so beautifully blatant that I didn’t know what to do.<br/>Did you even remember our anniversary? Were you expecting me to come by later? I’m not sure. I don’t think I’ll ever be sure because I’m avoiding you like the plague.<br/>You probably noticed by now right?<br/>I can’t face you. I don’t want to face you. I want to be here, in my safe haven, and write. Write about all of the beautiful things and all of the cruel things I’ve been exposed to. I’ll see you someday, probably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Entry 1

 

Things I Hate:

  * I hate handsome
  * I hate angelic voices
  * I hate ballads
  * I hate arrogance
  * I hate blatancy
  * I hate teasing
  * I hate brilliance
  * I hate math
  * I hate Italy
  * I hate wine
  * I hate computer games, especially Starcraft
  * I hate you, _Kyuhyunnie_ – that stupid nickname your “friend” gave you



 

I know the truth.

I know that you were spending time with her when you weren’t with me.

It’s nothing shocking.

When we first started dating I already knew you weren’t serious. I just had this silly idea that maybe I could change you. And that somehow you would end up falling so hard for me that the thought of even greeting another person of interest would make you recoil.

But, I was wrong.

And do you know why I was wrong? It’s because of every single stupid thing about you as listed above. Let me just step on you once or twice. No, never mind. Just…thank you, actually. I must’ve been crazy to think that I could care about someone like you. Fame and glamour blinded me. I wanted to be the person in school who got Cho Kyuhyun – singer extraordinaire, gaming genius, academic prodigy, rich boy.

How stupid. I wish I could take back all of those months – 12 to be exact. For each month we were together I added another thing I hate about you to the list. So no, if you ever read this which I hope you won’t, I’m not just bashing you to the ground like the scum you showed yourself to be. I always felt like this. I will also always be jealous of all that you have.

 

Your looks? Amazing, breathtaking, captivating.

My looks? Scrawny, too large of cheekbones, too short.

 

Your voice? Striking, deep, rich.

My voice? High, always high, trembling.

 

Your singing? Soothing, sad, aching.

My singing? Faux-touching, womanly, _cute_.

 

Do I have to go on? I hope not. For me, this was just the tip of the iceberg. I could sub-categorize all of this. My depths of crushed egotism could go on and on but this is a pretty long entry already and I haven’t even begun detailing our demise.

Oh yes, I must document it. After all, that’s what attracted you to me in the first place. Why not end it in the same way? I’d like for you to stumble upon this – not really – and see for yourself that you haven’t taken everything away from me. That, in fact, I still have my hand to write even if my voice and musical abilities will never be up to your level.

 

 

So, it was just two days ago: September 22nd – our one year anniversary.

I was getting ready and I had your present in hand as I rushed out of the house. My mother didn’t even get a chance to ask me where I was going, thankfully. I can’t imagine she would’ve been alright with the idea of her son dating another boy, even if that other boy was Cho Kyuhyun.

(You already know this though)

Getting onto the bus, I rode it quietly humming my favorite song. Do you still remember it Kyuhyun? I bet that you don’t. I drummed my fingers on the lid of your present (the one that I never gave you – now you know), too excited to sit still. My heart was racing like it always did in preparation of meeting you. I wanted so badly for you to open up that box and scream with joy. I bet you’re wondering what it is now.

If you must know, it was a signed CD from your favorite singer. I went through so much work to get it and in the end I just…left it in that present box and chucked the whole thing in the trash. Hey, if you really want it though, I bet the trash man hasn’t checked the bins yet. You could dumpster dive for it. That would be funny.

When I got to your apartment – because you told me you wanted me to cook dinner for you – I greeted the lobby man as usual and then proceeded to the elevators. Knowing your floor and room number, no doubt, I punched it in and waited impatiently for the doors to open.

Once I was in front of your door, I knocked once or twice but you didn’t answer. I bet you remember this well enough now right? Well, I heard noises on the inside. Strange noises. I grabbed your emergency key from the light fixture beside your door and opened it, worried.

What do I find though? I find you. And her. A girl for crying out loud! If you were straight you should’ve just told me in the beginning.

For me, I can’t even describe what I saw. I’ve never… _seen_ that many naked limbs all tangled up before. In a way, I was kind of disturbed, like I was watching some sort of eerily live and in HD animal channel willing-prey versus predator show. All I can recall for sure was her putrid voice shouting, “Kyuhyunnie!” over and over again.

You just looked at me. You looked at me like I didn’t matter. Then…you smiled. Your perfect little lips spread in a smile so beautifully blatant that I didn’t know what to do.

Did you even remember our anniversary? Were you expecting me to come by later? I’m not sure. I don’t think I’ll ever be sure because I’m avoiding you like the plague.

You probably noticed by now right?

I can’t face you. I don’t want to face you. I want to be here, in my safe haven, and write. Write about all of the beautiful things and all of the cruel things I’ve been exposed to. I’ll see you someday, probably.

I mean, we are in the same literature class.

So…see you then, Kyuhyun.

 

Your Beloved Owner,

Ryeowook

 

 


	2. Part 2

 

I slept with her. And I liked it. Should I say I’m bi? Maybe it’s just experimentation. Her body was so soft and smooth and her voice, though shrill, was absolutely shiver-inducing. I want more of her. No. That’s wrong. I want more of that sweet voice screaming my name.

Too bad Ryeowook never put out. If he had just put out I bet I wouldn’t have gotten so frustrated. I hardly think you can blame me for sleeping with someone. That was purely physical. Ryeowook has to understand that, otherwise why would he have left without saying a word or contacting me afterwards?

Surely, he gets what’s up.

I mean, we’ve been together a year now. He has to understand me well enough to figure out that I’m pretty interested in him. It was just her body. I wanted to abuse something and throw it away. Or, better yet, I wanted to hear Ryeowook’s wonderfully high pitched voice screaming for me, moaning for me, wanting me to do more to him.

But a woman is just as good, I suppose.

She’s gone now though. She’s been gone for the past few days.

What was her name again? She’s been calling me a lot. I thought about picking up and hooking up with her again, but once was enough, surprisingly. Contrary to what I’ve already stated, I don’t really need her body. I wouldn’t mind it if she came by asking for it, but I don’t believe she’s worth the effort of seeking out.

I locked the door to my apartment, striding down the hallway towards the elevators. A part of me was pretty bothered by Ryeowook’s lack of attention. I mean, how could he just not show up for our dinner? Couldn’t he have come back after I was done with that woman?

Damn, what was her name?

Whatever, never mind, it probably didn’t matter.

Yanking the car door open, I tossed my backpack in, slamming the door and tapping on the ceiling to tell my driver to go. Driving in the streets of Seoul was a dangerous game. Most halfway smart kids avoided doing that stuff. You never know when someone or something will hit you hard. Trust me, I’ve had the experience. My father saved me and I recovered and eventually, time just makes it all fade into a memory.

I tried calling Ryeowook again but he still didn’t pick up. I usually got him in the morning so what was he doing? Did he plan on taking the bus? Shuddering at the thought, I called again, this time not even getting a dial tone before the call was abruptly rejected.

Blinking a few times, I stared at the flashing screen, baffled by the treatment. I was his fucking boyfriend. We just passed our one year anniversary. Honestly, I understood his discomfort with seeing me sleeping with someone but it didn’t mean anything – really. How could that be when I’ve wasted – ah, I mean, _spent_ , this long with just him?  That was a total slip up. I really don’t think of it as a waste.

Sure, I think Ryeowook is annoying sometimes and far too innocent, but I’m dealing just fine. There’s something about him I love—again, I did not mean love. Hell, I’m not going to drop that word when I haven’t even told him yet. That was going to be my present for him, as embarrassing as that sounds.

I really wanted to tell him that I love him, that, somehow, he’s really caught me. Deep down I’m tied to him. When I’m not around him, I want to be with him. When I was touching that woman, I wanted her to be him. All I want these days is Ryeowook – body and soul, preferably body since I already have his soul.

The car pulled up to the school and I got out, shutting the door before heading down through the front courtyard. At the earliest I would be seeing my lover third period.

Perfect. Right before lunch.

Maybe he would let me take him out. If anything, Ryeowook was probably angry at me for doing something so “unfaithful”. If I explained it to him I’m sure he would understand. He had to understand. We were strong this long and I refused to believe anything could change that.

Sitting down in my first period, I closed my eyes briefly, wanting to get a few minutes of shut eye before class started. There were images of Ryeowook flitting through my mind. His smile, his crying face (something I saw a lot), and his laughing face were dominating every inch of my unconsciousness. I loved everything about him.

 

I love that he’s cute

I love that his voice is pure sweetness

I love his compositions

I love his bashfulness

I love his sensitivity

I love his silly words

I love his emotions

I love his piano playing

I love his aspirations to travel

I love his drunken state

I love his interests – especially theater

I love him, my Ryeowook and nobody else’s

 

Maybe that’s what I found so attractive when we first met. His greatest expressions and emotions came forth through the words he wrote in a music journal. They were just lyrics but he later confessed that he journals to vent his feelings.

The pure fact that I’m the only one aside from that journal to ever see the real Ryeowook made me more than happy. Everything in my life has been someone else’s. My voice was given to me. My math skills were honed by someone else. My personality and wealth and experiences were carved out by my parents.

But Ryeowook…he was all mine. He was a virgin, a music nerd, shy, kind, innocent – everything that pointed to a newborn puppy or bird or any other cute animal. Ryeowook was all mine to sculpt and protect, cherish and embrace.

That’s why I couldn’t believe it, figuratively speaking because I quite clearly heard him, when Ryeowook looked at me coldly and said, “What do you want?”

What did I want? I wanted to apologize and make it up to him for scaring him like that. “I want to clear things up. Don’t be mad,” I said slowly.

“I’m not mad,” he replied, equally slow. His eyes blinked a few times in confusion and then he was backing away from me like I was a fucking disease or something. “We already broke up. I just don’t get why you’re trying to talk to me.” Ryeowook swallowed hard and then he turned away from me, not giving me a chance to say anything back.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Entry 3: January 1st

 

Well, it’s official. I’ve made it almost half a year without Kyuhyun. I think I’m okay nowadays. I mean, at first, I was bitter. Truly, I wanted to run a knife through him and then cry in a ball. But I was going to be okay. Things were looking up finally.

I met someone in my acting class. I’ve talked about him a lot, now that I’m looking back at previous entries.

I guess I’ll just talk about him for a while longer considering what news I have to spill. His name is Kim Kibum. He’s a really humble boy and he wears glasses. When we first met we didn’t talk much because neither of us have that type of socializing ability.

Time passed though, and we were put together for an exercise. I kept messing up the dance steps and that was when I saw it. That smile. Kim Kibum smiled not like an angel, but like a god.

From then on, I couldn’t stop watching him and oddly enough, he seemed to have found something interesting in me too. We started walking home together because he happens to live just a few streets down from me.

During those all too short walks I learned more about him – finding out that he’s planning on becoming an actor, and that he’s an avid reader as well as smoker, sadly. I’ve convinced him to lower the intake and so far it looks like he’s doing better. For my part, I told him about my music and that I want to do musicals and theater in the future. He thought I would be good at it and asked me if I could sing for him sometime.

So…that, I suppose, you could call our first date. We went to a karaoke bar and sang for hours I think. Mainly me, because Kibum said he doesn’t like his voice all that much. I didn’t mind though. I loved singing for him. He always said nice things and made me feel like I could really be something…someday.

Before I knew it though, we were dating. I mean, we are dating. He’s really just…perfect.

 

Things I Like:

  * I like that he makes me feel special
  * I like that he doesn’t make fun of me
  * I like that he appreciates me
  * I like that he isn’t a better singer
  * I like that I don’t compete with him
  * I like that we’re so different and alike at the same time
  * I like that his kisses are soft
  * I like that his arms are warm and careful
  * I like that he’s a virgin too
  * I like that he’s dedicated to his acting
  * I like him for him



 

All of that is very true. Well, maybe not the virginity thing anymore. That’s my big news. I spent the night at his apartment (his family is living in London) and we weren’t really going to do anything. All of it happened really naturally.

Kibum kissed me in that way he always does – the way that makes my heart beat faster and my fingers tingle. Then he was under my shirt and I was making weird noises. I felt like I wanted more of him and I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way. We were practically wrestling and then I started giggling at the thought. Kibum stopped what he was doing so he could laugh in that quiet way of his.

His eyes lowered, glowing with something warm and possibly needy before his mouth descended on mine again. I was making those strange sounds again but this time I didn’t try to stop myself, instead I rolled into Kibum’s touches, breathing harder.

The next several minutes passed in a flurry and then we were naked, looking at each other questioningly. I helped him prepare me – the same way Kyuhyun used to touch me. Although we never went all the way, he had done enough to tell me what to do when the time really came. I just…always thought my first time would’ve been with Kyuhyun.

It hurt a lot at first. I was crying and clinging to Kibum like he was the last lifeboat in a sinking ship. My lips found his and we were kissing as he started moving inside of me. I panted pretty hard, still trying to find some sort of pleasure in all of the terrible aching and burning. Then my prayers were answered.

I felt something – I’m not sure what – touched and I knew I was screaming weirdly again. Kibum smiled faintly and I blushed at the expression. Closing my eyes, I got lost in my first time and as bad as it sounds, I was thinking about how much Kyuhyun would probably want to kill Kibum for doing this.

Even though we hadn’t been dating for nearly six months already, he still stayed near me…made me feel like I was his. Which, I guess, in a way I’ll always be his. Here I am, writing about him again, after all.

There’s something there. I just know it.

Wouldn’t it be great if Kyuhyun felt the same way?

It’s okay though. Kibum is nice and people often say growing to love someone can make that love last longer. I’d very much like to stay with Kibum for as long as possible.

 

Your Beloved Owner,

Ryeowook

 

 


	4. Part 4

 

I didn’t believe it as first. My friends were usually just screwing with me when they brought up Ryeowook. They kept saying how they saw him with some other guy. I told them that they were stupid and that obviously Ryeowook didn’t do that whole dating thing with just anybody.

Then again, I have been rethinking things. It seems like more and more I’m beginning to see how shitty life can be. Yes, my base and support is still the same but there are other things changing.

For one, I’m not with Ryeowook.

For two, I’m only now starting to understand why he broke up with me last September.

I haven’t left his side and I still convince him to talk to me. Sometimes I even manage to sneak a kiss or two when he’s off-guard (and he’s always off-guard). He would complain at first but from the blush on his face I would know that he’s still not over me.

As well he should be, though. I’m not over him and I’m never going to be over him. Three months have passed since we stopped dating and I’m still achingly after him. It’s not because he’s suddenly out of my reach. I’ve always felt that way. Ryeowook brings that out in me. He makes me want to protect and tease him.

I’ve given up on people time and time again but he’s the only one I won’t give up on. He’s mine, forever and ever.

So maybe those were the kinds of thoughts that made karma bite me so hard. I went to his place to clear up the whole dating another guy thing. There was no car in the driveway, meaning his parents were still at work – or maybe they were overseas. I wasn’t sure.

Anyway, I opened the side door which happened to be unlocked and entered the place. If Ryeowook wasn’t answering my calls I would just have to go and investigate by myself.

A few minutes passed and then I wondered if he wasn’t home from school yet. That was impossible though. We went to the same school. Sighing, I climbed the stairs, hearing noises coming from the second floor.

Slowly, I pushed the sloppily closed door of Ryeowook’s room and, people, I’m only ever going to say this once so you better no fucking repeat it.

My heart shattered.

I didn’t even know I had a heart weak enough to break. But there it was, crunching under the weight of my wide eyes.

Ryeowook was underneath someone, naked. They didn’t even notice me, not really at least. There were sweet cries falling from Ryeowook, the kind that I’ve always wanted to make him…make, I guess. But someone else was doing it. Someone else was embracing him and inside of him and bringing that expression to his face.

I’ve never seen that one. I’ve seen his smile, his crying face (something I saw a lot), and his laughing face, but never _that_ one – the one that told whoever that guy was, that Ryeowook felt something for him.

I closed the door silently and made my way back down the stairs, back to the door, and finally out. I locked it quietly, leaving the key where I had found it. For the past three months I kept thinking it was temporary, that Ryeowook would come back soon.

But maybe he wasn’t.

Maybe he didn’t want me as much as I wanted him back then.

If, after only a few months, he slept with someone that must’ve meant that I was doing something horribly wrong – or that, he just didn’t care for me.

We were a year strong. We were something special.

So why couldn’t I be the one to be with him for the first time?

I took his first kiss.

I took his first dance, date, touch, and every other fucking thing.

And then this random man took the last, most intimate thing.

For me, it was as bad as rape. The rape of our relationship.

 

I’m telling myself that I can live fine now.

I’m telling myself that I’ll be better off without this disgustingly weak emotion.

I’m telling myself all of this so I can ignore the fact that I’m crying for what I’ve lost.

 

And you should know, I don’t cry.

But that would be obvious already, right?

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Entry 5: Goodbye

 

It’s weird how sex changes people.

That’s what I learned in high school.

When you’re young, and raging with hormones it feels like the only thing you can do to relieve yourself is by having sex. It makes everything better some way somehow because you’re faced with a clear way out.

As a teenager, I learned that it’s so easy to run away, to be swallowed up in someone else’s current and just drift along. But there’s the problem. When we do that, we’re losing something important – the ability to reach for what we truly want.

We’re all struck by indecision and complexes that feel suffocating.

It really feels unfair sometimes. However, I’ve accepted it these days – these final days. Yes, that’s right. Not only is this journal finally reaching its limit, I’m also at the limit of my adolescence.

Finals are over. Graduation is over. Summer is over.

I’m done.

And so are we.

You see, keeping a journal for this long has blinded me whilst driving hormones have warped me. I thought sex was the solution to everything. I thought sex was the problem with everything. See the hypocritical nature of us teens?

In the end though, I finally get it. You, my dear journal, taught me a great deal about life and the ability to organize thoughts of paper. At the same time, you, my dear journal, made me lose sight of what I want.

In all honesty…

I love handsome

I love angelic voices (who wouldn’t?)

I love ballads (lovers’ songs)

I love confidence, because I’m too modest

I love blatancy (honesty is the best policy)

I love teasing

I love brilliance

I love what he loves

I love Italy (where I was this summer!)

I love wine (heavy weight drinker right here)

I love his dorkiness, especially Starcraft

I love -----------

 

“Just tell me, dummy,” Kyuhyun’s deep, lulling voice prompted, holding the journal out of reach. He watched Ryeowook spin around in his chair, eyes wide in horror. The standing male rolled his eyes, lips quirking up in a smile. “Trust me, I’ve read your journal plenty of times. To be freaked out now is to be a little late.”

Ryeowook scrambled to his feet, face reddening as he threw his arms around Kyuhyun’s lean waist, embracing him tightly.

The latter blinked, surprise making him drop the worn out journal, “W-What’s up?” he looked down at the boy snuggling into his chest.

Lifting his head, Ryeowook smiled widely, eyes twinkling affectionately. “I love you, Kyuhyun. That’s it.”

“No more fighting?” he asked slowly, carefully.

“We’re too old for that,” Ryeowook said softly, leaning up to brush their lips together, “…we can still fight about stupid stuff if you want though.”

Kyuhyun chuckled, dark eyes drifting down as he caressed the smaller male’s face in his hands. “Yeah, I’m fine with that.” He closed his eyes, pressing a little harder against his lover’s lips.

Ryeowook sort of wanted to pick up his journal and finish the entry…but decided against it. Why not leave it empty?

“We should get some sleep. Our flight is tomorrow morning.”

Pausing for a small moment, Ryeowook nodded, lacing their fingers together and pulling Kyuhyun towards the bed. “Since we’re high schoolers anymore does that mean I can get away without sex?”

Kyuhyun made a face and then pulled them under the blankets. Sticking his tongue out teasingly, he pulled Ryeowook close to his body, resting his head atop the slender male’s, “Just for tonight.”

 

 


End file.
